Friends, Younglings, and Masters
by Elemarth
Summary: After the Battle of Geonosis, an "orphaned" padawan waits for a new master, tries to help a heartbroken friend, and learns to cope with her own losses.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: This is my fourth story about Akite, the third in chronological order ("The Last Laugh" comes a few years after this one). I have tried to make sure that people can read this without having read the stories that come before it. As one brief explanation: "Survivor's Guilt" is about Akite's journey home from Geonosis after her master's death, and she talks with Bultar Swan and an unnamed master, who are on the same ship as she is.  
**

**I'll give pronunciation of the more difficult names as I go along.**

****

Akite Chairu - Ah-_kee_-tay. "Chai" rhymes with "sky" and "ru" rhymes with "new".

Oreti Alo - Or-_eht_-tee _Ah_-loh

Zefel - _Zeh-_fehl

* * *

After classes, I limp to my room and lie on my back on my bed. I stare at the white ceiling, my mind as blank as it is.

_Master._

The thought crawls across the blank whiteness unbidden. I chase it away.

_Oreti. My master._

I can't. I can't cry again. I'm a Jedi. I can't cling to the dead.

_I want my master back!_

I flip onto my stomach and bury my face in the pillow to keep the thought from tearing out in a scream. I can't do this. I am a Jedi. _I am a Jedi!_

I am also a thirteen-year-old who has just lost the closest thing she had to a parent since she was taken from her real ones nine years ago.

I lie on my side and try to tap into the Force. It is full of pain and fear from other Jedi in the Temple. I am not alone in my grieving. I am simply alone.

The Force shows me a web of connections and faults – shatterpoints – in my room. The door to the 'fresher is open, and I can see that a light strike through the Force in just the right – or wrong – place would break the faucet. I should have somebody fix it.

I have found that shatterpoint every day, several times a day, since I returned here after the Battle of Geonosis four days ago, and I haven't told anyone yet. The faucet is the only thing breakable here. Besides me.

I cry. I can see my master, Oreti Alo, as clearly in my head as if he were still with me. Young, blond-haired, and a bit shy and hesitant. I was his first apprentice. In our short time together, he became very proud of me, and I became very fond of him.

Now, he is dead.

There is no one to comfort me. Everyone is wrapped up in their own personal griefs and the fear of war, which we never learned to understand. My master is gone, and my friends –

I can't even touch _that_ subject yet.

I really can't keep this up. The healers are already worried about me. I tell them that my leg still hurts from the blaster wound that was my only physical injury from Geonosis. They say that after five days (one was one the ship), it would have healed if I would let it.

Maybe I don't know how to let it.

I know my teachers have noticed. The initiates that now make up my classes, since all the padawans my age are dead or on missions, have noticed. Master Yoda has noticed and will surely ask to have a talk with me when he isn't too busy dealing with the war and all the heartbroken masters.

I don't want to talk about it.

But I miss Oreti.

* * *

_My name is Akite Chairu, and I am a Zabrak Jedi padawan who survived the Battle of Geonosis._

_My name is Akite Chairu, and I survived the Battle of Geonosis._

_I survived the Battle of Geonosis._

_I survived._

It simply doesn't work. I can't make myself accept it.

I shut my eyes and think of Bultar Swan and the things we talked about as we rode home from Geonosis. It seemed that things would be all right then. But that was the first pain, the shock of a blaster cutting my leg. This was the long, unending pain that comes after. And I wasn't alone then. There was me, the knight Bultar Swan, a master whose padawan had been killed, and all the clones. But both those Jedi were sent away within hours of our return to the Temple, leaving me completely alone.

Bultar Swan didn't want a padawan. She said so. But she was kind, and I could have hoped if she had stayed here.

But she didn't. Who will be my master now?

I open my eyes, though they are filled with tears. Today is a new day, and I must get up before I miss breakfast.

The door opens. I jump up – has someone been sent to see why I haven't come to breakfast yet?

A tall humanoid boy with golden skin, hair, and eyes stands in the doorway. I know him very well.

"Fang!" I shout in joy. But my friend's appearance opens a door I had wanted to keep shut. "Zefel," I whisper, remembering my other friend. She will never come back.

"Dorn," he reminds me. Dorn, too, is gone.

"Master…" I tell him.

"I know."

We sit on the bed and cry in each other's arms. I have never known Fang to cry before.

"How long will you be here?" I ask.

"I don't know. As long as they need Master."

"A long time…" I wish.

"Maybe."

Fang's master is a healer-knight. They are needed to heal the soul of the Jedi.

Fang, really Aaffeng Taolong, was the oldest of my group of friends, as I was the youngest. He has always been the wisest, though he keeps what he knew to himself, much to our dismay after we got in trouble for one of Dorn's schemes after another.

"Dorn's _dead_," I whisper. "I don't believe it."

"They found his body," is Fang's blunt response. "You can't deny that he is dead."

"But… never to get in trouble again? Never to get _us_ in trouble again? Never to come up with another wild idea? Never to call me 'Kee' again?" "Kee" was Dorn's nickname for me.

"I'll call you 'Kee' for him," Fang offered.

I almost smiled at the thought. Fang is Dorn's opposite: tall where Dorn was short, wise were Dorn was anything but, thoughtful where Dorn was careless, serious where Dorn was silly. I just can't see Fang running down the hall, screaming some nickname he had made up for me, until a master yelled at him. Not Fang.

By the time we finished crying and washed away our tears, we have to run to class without breakfast. At least Fang is now with me. I spend more time paying attention to him than the teacher. It's such a relief to have a friend in the Temple. I'm having classes with younger students since nobody my age is around.

We have a lightsaber lesson with the most advanced initiates just before lunch. I am hungry by this point on a normal day, but without breakfast, I feel faint. I should tell the teacher, but he would send me to the healers, who would accuse me of trying to starve myself, or something. So I say nothing.

Because I am clearly the best at lightsaber combat in this group, including Fang, I am asked to demonstrate several moves. I watch the children through the white glow of the practice lightsaber, wishing this were my real green saber and I could be destroying the battle droids that would kill Oreti. My leg begins to throb and my stomach aches in its emptiness to remind me of past and present limitations. I stumble.

As I stand there, ashamed of my mistake in something I ordinarily have no trouble with, Fang chooses to speak: "She didn't eat breakfast."

I glare at him. _Right! And if the teacher asks why, tell them how we cried! How un-Jedi we are!_

"Is that true, Akite?" asks our teacher.

"Yes, Master," I tell him automatically.

"Why did you skip breakfast?"

"I overslept," I lie.

He frowns. I never oversleep, and in the Temple, teachers know everything about students. "Sit down," he orders me.

He does not ask me to do anything more. We go to lunch, and I hiss at Fang, "You didn't eat breakfast, either!"

He shrugs.

I eat as much as I can. I am silent throughout the meal.

* * *

**_I_ did the hard work: writing this. It won't take nearly as much effort for _you_ to tell me whether you like it or not. In other words, please review!  
**


	2. Chapter 2

It happens that afternoon

It happens that afternoon. I get a message on my comm unit to come to the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Master Yoda is waiting for me. I can't imagine why it took him so long to do this.

He leads me with his small steps to a secluded place. We sit behind the leaves. I lean back against the trunk of a tree.

"Sorry I am about your loss," he says softly.

I shut my eyes.

"To talk about it would you like?" he asks.

I shake my head against the tree.

"To talk at all would you like?"

I shake my head.

"Ever?"

I can't tell whether he is teasing or not. I open one eye and look at his kind face. "I don't know."

He smiles sorrowfully. I bite my lip to stop myself from crying.

"Any questions do you have for me?"

"Who'll take me?" I burst out.

He studies me for a moment. "A brave padawan you are."

"No, I'm not." I shut my eyes again. If I'm going to get one of his rare compliments, I should at least deserve it.

"Akite."

His tone is uncharacteristically sharp, so I look at him again.

"Their padawans many masters have lost. When heal they do, look for another they will. Patience you must have." He smiles again. "A good padawan you will be."

He never, ever gives compliments for fun. He always means them, a hundred times over.

I sigh. He's _wrong_. I'll never be a good Jedi until I can let go of the dead. And I can't. I can't let Oreti go. But I can't tell Master Yoda this.

"Until then, to help the younglings would you like?"

I shrug.

"Keep you busy they will, and wonderful younglings are."

"When?" I ask dully.

"Mmm… afternoons until you a master finds."

It will end lonely, endless afternoons. I nod.

"Good. Tell the caretakers I will.

* * *

I go to the crèche immediately. There's no point lying in my bed and finding that stupid shatterpoint in the sink again. I am a Jedi. I cannot cling to the dead.

I decide to go to the four-year-olds. When I was four, I had just come here. I didn't realize that I had left my mother forever. I definitely didn't realize that I would lose my next parent, too. I had also just met Dorn, Zefel, Fang, and Jiimo but didn't really know them yet. Dorn and Zefel, who are dead. Fang, who –

Okay, I won't pretend I'm not jealous of Fang. He is helping his master in the infirmary now. _His master._ He has a master, he wasn't at Geonosis, and he always manages to stay serene, as a Jedi should. Okay, so he cried with me, but anyone who knows him knows what I mean. Crying made him better, not worse.

I gather all my courage and walk into the room where the four-year-olds were playing. There are about twenty, all different species. The moment I enter, a tall humanoid woman stands and carefully crosses about five feet of toys and younglings.

"Akite Chairu?" she asks.

I don't think Yoda could have contacted all the caretakers between the time I spoke to him and now. He must have assumed I would agree.

Despite the fact that Jedi aren't supposed to assume things.

"Yes," I say to the woman.

She turns around and shouts across the room, "This is Akite Chairu! Be nice to her!" She adds in a low voice to me, "You should have chosen an older age group. These younglings steal your sanity."

They all look up at me and say, "Hi," in their high voices. Some attempt my name. One says, "Hi, Maser Chairu."

I barely keep myself from laughing. The woman shakes her head and picks her way across the room. "I'm not a master!" I protest. "I'm thirteen years old, and I'm a padawan."

"But you got a lightsaver," one little Twi'lek says, pointing.

"Yeah, but even padawans have light_sabers_," I tell him.

But they find it impressive. I hear it all over the room: "She has a lightsaber. Look, she has a lightsaber." And all sorts of versions of the word _lightsaber_.

One brave human boy calls up to me, "Who's your master?"

I feel as if my heart has stopped. I look around the room. There are three adults, and they all look up at me in a way that says they won't help me.

What do you tell a four-year-old?

I rub my nose and kneel down. "I don't have one right now," I explain.

"But _all_ pad'ans have masters," says the little boy.

"Well, you see, I had one but he left me." My eyes burn. I don't know if I can do this. "He got very, very badly hurt – more than you can imagine – and to get better, he had to join the Force." It's the best I can do. They might have heard about joining the Force from their teachers. I sniff and, as surreptitiously as I can, wipe my eyes.

"When will he come back from the Force?" a girl asks.

"He can't," I tell her seriously. I have a group of younglings sitting around me now. "Once you join the Force, you're part of it forever."

"Why?" she asks.

"Well, that's just the way it works," I tell her. "If we never did that, we'd – we'd –" I think of something that a certain master would not appreciate. "We'd all look like Master Yoda!"

They laugh. A male caretaker catches my eye across the room and nods.

* * *

Fang and his master, Asyi Sual, are at dinner before me. I put on a cross-eyed expression for them.

"The four-year-olds… steal… your… sanity."

They laugh, happy to see me acting normal.

* * *

**Review? Please? I'd give you a puppy-dog look, but I don't think that would work over the internet too well.  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**I haven't said this yet: I have the entire story written. Some parts still may need work, so I can't guarantee it, but I'm trying to post every Friday evening.**

* * *

The four-year-olds exhausted me yesterday. I slept very well, but I am not prepared to do that again.

Fang, Master Sual, and I have a quiet breakfast. I drag myself through morning classes, but I work extra hard at lightsaber practice to make up for yesterday.

After my afternoon classes, I go to the crèche again. I decide to go to the seven-year-olds this time. It seems a good age.

The caretakers don't recognize me right away, but when I tell them my name, they nod and tell the younglings that I am here to play with them. There are only two caretakers in this group, which is probably a good sign.

The younglings ask me hundreds of questions. The difference here is that they understand what death is, so I tell them that my master is dead, and they ask if I'll get another.

If?

I tell them that of course I will, but not quite yet.

"So you're our master for now," an alien with fuzzy black fur says happily.

"Maybe," I laugh. He has a point.

They don't just throw around toys like the younger ones. They actually play games, and I teach them a few new ones. But they still have the cute randomness of most younglings. One little girl comes up to me in the middle of a game and says, "I like your horns."

I am completely taken aback. "Well, thank you," I say. Since she is a Twi'lek, and she has commented on the defining aspect of my species, Zabrak, I add, "I like your _lekku_."

"Thanks." She grins. "Wanna trade?"

"No! I like my horns, too!" I laugh.

"Oh. Okay." She walks away. I have to wonder if she really thinks we could switch horns for _lekku_, head-tails.

When I leave, one of the caretakers asks, "Will you come back tomorrow? They really enjoyed having an older kid to play with."

"I hope so," I say. But later, I find a message on my comm unit. "Will you please come back tomorrow? The younglings were asking where you were today. They adore you." It was from a caretaker from the four-year-olds.

So I tell the older younglings' caretakers that I will be back the day _after_ tomorrow and brace myself for another day of wild little younglings.

* * *

It's worth it. When I walk in, one of the younglings shouts, "It's 'Kite!" They start chanting my name until it sounds like, "Kitty, kitty, kitty." I shout, "My name is _Ah-kee-tay_!"

They dutifully repeat it and then start shouting, "Come play with me, Akitty!"

I laugh. Yoda is right. Younglings are good for you. I start looking forward to them all day. They keep my mind off other things. I realize that my leg has stopped hurting.

* * *

It has been three weeks since the Battle of Geonosis. I am chasing a few four-year-old younglings. I hear a more adult voice yelling, "Akite!"

Fang dashes into the room and yells again, "Akite!" I stand and stare at him with astonishment. Fang never yells and never runs. I can't imagine what is happening.

He stands in the doorway and gasps, "Sorry… Masters, may I please… speak to Akite… Chairu?"

The caretaker in charge nods. I escape from the younglings, who want to keep me forever, and we close the door behind us. My feet are bare because of all the little feet and hands, and the floor of the hallway is cold, but Fang's face is filled with joy.

"Akite, Zefel – Zefel is alive!"

The cold floor drops out from under me. I'm swimming in air. "What?"

"She's alive! The Council got a ransom offer for two knights and Zefel yesterday! Master Sual told me. She's alive!"

I float far away from my body. This is beyond hope. I'm not sure how my words reach my mouth, but they do. "Are they sure it's not a trap?"

"Yes, yes, they spoke to the prisoners! And they think there might be more, too. They'll pay the money, and Zefel will come home!"

I'm in my body again. "Yes!" I shout. "Yes! Yes!"

We jump up and down, laughing and screaming, "Yes!" I never thought I would ever see Fang so happy. I never thought I would see him laughing and cheering. And, for the first time in three weeks, I feel that the Force is good.

* * *

**Please kindly review.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I forgot to mention these names: Sual is pronounced "Swahl."**** Jiimo is "_Jee_-moh." Alnem is "_Ahl_-nehm.**

* * *

"Both of you need to calm down and think," says Master Sual sharply at dinner. "Yes, your friend is going to come back, but have you thought of what she has been through? Akite, you may understand better than Fang. Zefel was at the Battle of Geonosis, and, though she may not have been in the arena with you, she probably understands how many Jedi died. She very likely doesn't know who survived. She probably _does_ know that her master died, and it very well could have happened in front of her – which _you_ escaped, Akite."

I stare at my food uncomfortably. Oreti died when his ship was shot down by the separatists. I was on anther ship and only knew through the Force.

"And then, think how miserable you were, and _you_ had people you knew around. She was a prisoner of war. We don't know yet how the Separatists treat their prisoners – except Master Kenobi and the others, with the execution arena, which I doubt was typical – so you have to be prepared that, while having her home may be enough for you, it may not be for Zefel."

His lecture completely washed my joy out of me. _Zefel… why did it have to be Zefel?_ I wonder.

She was always the most sensitive of our group of friends. She knew when any one of us was upset, and, believe me, Fang does not make that easy. The amount of feelings a crowd gives off overwhelms her. I can only guess at what sort of feelings there would be in a prison.

Furthermore, Zefel is beautiful. She has wavy black hair, blue eyes, and a lovely face, and she could pass for an adult already. I may be a Jedi, but I do know what can happen to a beautiful young woman who is a prisoner or slave.

Master Sual sees the expression on my face. "The Council did see to the prisoners briefly over comm. They said that none of them appeared to have been treated badly."

"But we still have to get someone to them," I say. "That gives the Separatists time… They could kill them!"

"I know," he admits. "We must be patient."

* * *

I have trouble sleeping that night. I want to know that Zefel is home and safe. If Oreti were still alive, I would go to his room, and he would find some way to comfort me, but I am sure that Fang would not want to be woken in the middle of the night. It's Zefel that I would usually discuss these things with, anyhow.

I avoid showing the teachers how I feel. It's enough that they know I grieved over Oreti. He was my master. I had some excuse. Fears over a friend are not acceptable.

Playing with the younglings really makes me feel better. They are amazing. I wish I could be young again - and forever.

* * *

I am meditating and trying to sort out my feelings when I feel Zefel close. My emotions go back into uproar.

Is she all right?

I manage to stay in meditation until Fang appears at my door. Then, I bring myself back into the material world.

Fang looks edgy, something unusual for him. "She's back," he tells me.

"I know. Can we see her?"

"The Council is speaking to them."

The Council is not the kindest group of people, but I do trust them. I hope they don't keep her too long, or we won't be able to see her before it's time to sleep.

Fang comes in and shuts my door. I think he may want to talk, which is entirely out of character for him. "Is she all right?" I ask.

"They think so. One of the knights they sent to get the prisoners was a healer, in case." He is still standing, and I have to tilt my head back to see his expression. It tells me nothing. "The Council asked Master Sual to go. He told them that he couldn't because his apprentice is 'emotionally attached to the girl.'"

"He told the _Council_ that? Fang, that's terrible!" I would have been embarrassed if I were in his situation, but Fang makes up for his relative lack of strength in the Force with complete dedication. To know that his master told the Council that he is emotionally attached to someone, especially a girl, must be agony for him.

"He couldn't lie," Fang admitted, a blush showing through his gold skin.

"Yes, and I guess they know you aren't the only one."

"Yeah."

He stands there for a while. We finally leave my room and wander towards the Room of a Thousand Fountains. If the Council lets Zefel go, she will probably go there.

We sit in her favorite place by a silent agreement. We have been here many, many times before, but, even if we weren't all together, we always knew that our other friends were all right.

Then, we see her.

She is walking slowly with her head down. We can see that her hair was cut short. When she became a padawan, it was cut close to her head except for her padawan braid, but it still looked nice, and her master let it grow out. Now, it has been raggedly cut off, even her padawan braid. I notice that she isn't wearing her lightsaber.

She looks up. She has dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep, or crying, or both, and her face is a picture of wounded beauty.

Her eyes hardly touch Fang. They land on me and widen. "Akite!" she calls hoarsely. She _has_ been crying. "You're alive!"

She _did_ think I was dead, then. I can only nod.

Fang and I move apart. She sits between us. "You're alive," she whispers, her head bowed.

"I was lucky." I was.

"Dorn?"

"Was not lucky."

She lets out a choked sob. "Jiimo wasn't there, was he?"

"Jiimo didn't go," I assure her. "He wasn't here when Master Windu called on everyone in the Temple to go to Geonosis – he's been away for months."

She nods. "You were lucky," she whispers. "Both of you."

"I'm so glad you're back," I whisper. I'm not sure what else to say.

"Do you know what I'm worth to the Jedi?" she asks fiercely, lifting her head. "Thirty thousand credits. That's what they paid to get me back."

"Isn't that high for a bribe?" I ask. Most are less than a tenth of that amount.

"Low for a person!"

"Well, it's better than being a slave and sold for five hundred credits to a master worse than your last one," I suggest.

She isn't amused. "No one has slaves anymore."

"Anakin Skywalker was a slave."

"That's a rumor, and he's from Tatooine, anyway," she says in a voice too cold for her.

Zefel used to be a lot of fun. Really. She actually supported most of Dorn's schemes. She had a great sense of humor. I hope this is only passing depression.

"Did they hurt you?" asks Fang suddenly.

"No. They mostly treated us okay once we were out of the system and they weren't afraid of being caught – they were rough before that. They weren't allowed to touch me. They wanted to, though." She shudders.

Of course they wanted to, but they didn't, so I won't worry, even if she does look upset at the thought. "Good. We're really, really glad you're back." I look at Fang, expecting him to say it better.

He is looking at her with an inscrutable expression. "I'm sorry," he says at last. "So is Akite."

I nod.

Zefel lets out a choked sound. "Alnem." Her master. "Alnem died… they shot her… She tried… tried to protect me because…" She is crying now, but I know she has to tell us. "The pain in the arena… I couldn't help her."

Her tearful words throw me back to the battle. All the pain, the death, surrounded by it, sickened by it…

I can't cry. I can't.

But Oreti… Master…

I'm going to have to leave. I can't cry in front of her. It will only encourage her.

"_I like your horns."_ The little Twi'lek appears in my head. _"…wanna trade?"_ I have to hide a smile so Zefel won't be insulted.

I love younglings.

Zefel cries. I lift my head high and say two words in a clear voice: "Oreti died."

"What?" she asks through her tears.

"Oreti died. There was nothing I could do. We were separated."

"Akite," she gasps. "I – that's – I can't believe that!"

"It's true," I tell her, holding my voice steady with effort.

"But – Oh, Akite!"

I give in and cry.

* * *

**Have any of you had a problem where the first sentence of a chapter shows up twice when you upload it? In this case, the top line of the chapter when I uploaded said "Both of you need to calm down and think," and the under that was the entire first paragraph, including that phrase, and the rest of the story... This has happened repeatedly.  
**

**Please take the time to review.**


	5. Chapter 5

Zefel is late to breakfast. I almost go to get her, but as I am about to ask Master Sual about her, she comes in. She gets some food and sits by me. She still isn't wearing her lightsaber.

Master Sual studies her with a healer's eyes. "Have you been sleeping?" The dark circles haven't gone away.

"I mostly meditated last night," she admits.

"Meditation is good, but you do that anyway, and everyone needs sleep," he tells her.

She shrugs and eats her breakfast.

* * *

Zefel doesn't speak at all in classes, and our teachers don't try to talk to her.

I find her in her spot in the Room of a Thousand Fountains again that evening. She doesn't seem happy to see me.

"Zefel," I say. "Zefel, it's all right."

"How can you say that?" she whispers. "How can you? I stood there while she protected me… helpless… stood there while they killed her! And you say that it's all right?"

"Zefel," I whisper. "You think that you're the only person with regrets about that day? Think of the masters who lost the padawans that they were responsible for. You're fourteen. You're a student. She was your master. It was her job to protect you and herself, and she tried."

"You don't know!" she cries. "You don't understand. You couldn't have saved Oreti."

"I could have made sure I stayed with him," I say gloomily. "I could have been with him. Died with him. But I didn't. I was hurt, and I couldn't. So I'm alive. Zefel, do you think that if you had fought alongside Alnem, you would both have lived?"

"We could have!"

"You _could_ have. Do you have any idea how many Jedi died that day? Do you? Over a hundred. And how many padawans? Most of them. Be glad that you're alive!"

"How can I?" she asks hoarsely. "Alnem! She died; I live because I was weak."

I groan inwardly. _This was my best friend. What happened? And what can I do?_

"Zefel, you couldn't help her. You have a gift with other people's emotions. It hurts sometimes, but what can you do? It's a gift. Like mine with shatterpoints."

She looks away from me. "You know, they told me that they had to send me back to the Jedi this time they offered captives for ransom because I would fall apart soon."

"Of course. Any smart enemy would do that to drive you crazy. They wouldn't really think it."

"How do you know it's not true?"

"Why would it be?" I ask. "You didn't fall apart. What did the Council say?"

"That they're trying to upset me, and that means that they have other captives." She adds a bit grudgingly, "And that all Jedi should be told to cry a lot if they're taken captive."

My eyes widen in fake shock. "The Council members have a sense of humor? Zefel, _they_ don't think you're weak, and they're the ones that matter."

"Akite!" she wails. "I want Alnem!"

"I want Oreti. And Dorn. And you."

She sobs. So do I. My heart is breaking for an odd reason. Not because of my pain, but because I realize for the first time since Geonosis that there are people who have suffered more pain from that battle than I have.

* * *

Zefel almost doesn't talk at all for days. I don't press her, but I do suggest that she try playing with younglings. "They love padawans who play with them. Anyone who'll play. They'll make you feel much better. They're great."

She shakes her head.

What can I do?

I spend afternoons with the younglings. Their ecstatic greetings have faded a little. Maybe I'm getting too familiar. But they still like me, and that's enough.

I work hard at my classes. I defeat Fang in practice duels. I wait for a master. I watch Zefel with grief.

I hear that Zefel is spending her days outside of classes talking to Yoda and meditating. I don't think this is good. I don't think she is sleeping, either.

At least she eats.

I wish Oreti were here for me to talk to. What do I do?

I have to talk to Yoda.

* * *

Master Yoda and I sit together in a quiet, dim room. I ask him, "What can I do for Zefel? She's in so much pain."

He is silent for a little while. I wait for him.

"Spoken to me many times recently, young Zefel Torela has," he says as if I didn't know already.

I wait for him.

"Her best friend she often calls you."

"We talked to each other more than to anyone else."

He nods.

"I do care about her," I admit. "Very much."

To my surprise, he says, "Good."

"That's good? To care about her? It's not attachment?"

He looks at me with wise eyes. "A close friend everyone needs. When hurt one is, a friend one needs still more."

"So it's good?" I was worried he would say that I must let her go.

"When worried about her you did, what did you worry about?"

"That she was in pain. And she is."

"What is a Jedi's job?"

"To keep peace. And stop pain."

"So something wrong there is to want a person not to be in pain?"

"I guess not."

"Hm?"

"No."

"Good."

"But what can I do for her?"

"Hm. Done very well you have."

"Thank you, Master."

"A choice you have. Her friend you may be or may not be. Harder it is to be her friend."

"Just be her friend?"

"Offer friendship and advice you may. Accept it she may. Accept it she may not."

"But she won't."

"Offer it you must."

"I don't understand."

"May the Force be with you."

I don't understand Master Yoda sometimes.


	6. Chapter 6

The next day, I beat Zefel for third time in a practice duel

I beat Zefel for third time in a practice duel. I feel bad, but she would be upset if I eased up on her.

We clean up and walk in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. I wait for her to talk. She doesn't.

Suddenly, I see Fang walking by a young Rodian.

"Jiimo!" Zefel and I shout.

In the past two years, we have seen Jiimo about five times. His master, Khiro Arrez, is no the sort of Jedi who likes to be sitting around in the Temple.

"Jiimo, how are you, and how long will you be here?" I ask quickly.

"I'm fine. Khiro isn't. He almost lost his arm to some crazy animal. _Don't ask me how_." He shuddered. "He should be fine, but the healers are very careful, so it might be four or five days before they let him go."

"Really?" I'm delighted. I'm also impressed that Jiimo's master managed to get so badly hurt that he might be here for five days.

"Tell me what's been going on here. All I know is that Dorn is dead, Akite is alive, and Zefel was dead for three weeks before becoming alive."

It sounds like he is getting his information from an interesting source – probably the archives. I note that his voice does not shake when he mentions Dorn, though he was Dorn's best friend.

I also notice that Zefel's expression is less than happy.

We tell him everything. It is good, for me at least, to tell the story to a new person. He is unusually sympathetic. He agrees that Zefel needs a lightsaber and a master.

We outnumber her with quite good odds.

* * *

Jiimo comes to classes the next day. There are now five padawans in the class with us and an apprenticed healer. I have noticed that initiates have begun to disappear – to masters, I guess. Jiimo is shown to be at the academic level of the twelve-year-old initiates. Since he is fourteen and has been a padawan since he was twelve, this is not good. One teacher mentions that he should stay at the Temple longer to catch up. I hope he does.

However, at lightsaber practice, he is shown to have improved immensely. I finally have a worthy opponent. I can't wait to fight him.

At lunch, Jiimo tells us a fantastic tale of how Khiro almost lost his arm. Master Sual keeps shaking his head with a little smile on his face. I think Jiimo is stretching the truth. He likes to do that, but having him is almost as good as having Dorn around. Maybe better, because he doesn't get us into trouble.

* * *

It is the third morning since Jiimo came. Zefel doesn't come to breakfast. I offer to get her, but Master Sual stops me.

"She left earlier to make a new lightsaber.

My joy is boundless.

* * *

Zefel is waiting in my room. "I thought you should see it first." She hands me a black hilt.

I examine it carefully. It is pretty, as lightsaber hilts go. It seems to have patterns carved in it. Most of the mechanics, including the on/off switch, are inside, so there is room for this. I look closely at them.

Some are meaningless swirls.

Others look like teardrops.

"Zefel," I whisper. "Why tears? I thought things were getting better."

"They might be blood. I'm not sure. The Force told me to put them there."

_That's a good excuse,_ I want to snap. But I know it's true. "Why, though? You must have some idea."

"When I look into the future, the Force shows me grief and pain."

I shake my head. _This is war._ I flick the internal switch with the Force. The blade is blue, like her old one, like most padawans'. I hand it back to her. "I hope there is more to the future than that."

She looks at me with agony in her eyes.

Someone knocks on my door. "Akite!" It's Jiimo.

"Yeah, come in! Zefel's back."

"Really?" The door slides open. "Can I see?"

Fang comes in after him, tall, regal, and golden. He seems happy about something.

Zefel gives the lightsaber hilt to Jiimo. "What is it, Fang?" I ask excitedly.

"We have received five former prisoners," Fang says quietly.

"Tell us," I request.

Between Jiimo and Fang, we learn the story. The Republic took many prisoners in a recent battle, including several minor Separatist leaders. The Separatists offered two Jedi in return for some of these. Master Windu is apparently a good bargainer, because he backed them into corners until they admitted that they could give three, four, and finally five Jedi. The Council spoke to these Jedi, the deals were finalized, and the Jedi are on their way home.

I ask who they are. Fang says that he doesn't know them. Jiimo says that one is fifteen years old and another is eighteen. The other three are adults.

Zefel is smiling.

* * *

Tonight, after my friends leave, I spend a little time meditating. I ask the Force what is in the future. It answers:

_Hope._

* * *

**We're halfway through! How am I doing? **


	7. Chapter 7

Jiimo left the day after the new prisoners returned

Jiimo left the day after the new prisoners returned. The parting was unusually painful. It is a dangerous galaxy out there now. We get news of death and destruction every day.

Yesterday, two days after Jiimo left, the Jedi Council decided that the galaxy needs Master Sual and Fang more than the Temple does. They left after breakfast today. Lunch and dinner were unbearably lonely without them. Zefel doesn't talk much.

I think of the seemingly empty Temple as I wander to Zefel's place in the Room of a Thousand Fountains after the younglings. Every functional knight, master, and padawan is outside of the Temple with the exceptions of most of the Council, some healers, the freed prisoners, and me.

I can't understand why I haven't been chosen yet. Are people so afraid of taking a padawan who has lost her first master? Or is it simply because no one stays at the Temple long enough to choose a new padawan?

I suddenly realize that I have been hearing soft voices, which isn't unusual in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, but the voices are coming from Zefel's place and I can hear crying, too.

I stop. Should I leave her or see who she is talking to? I think I need to at least make sure it _is_ Zefel.

I walk as quietly as I can and look from across a pool.

It is indeed Zefel. She is crying about something with a young, brown-haired adult human male. It looks like he may be crying, himself.

I leave before they can see me.

My first impression is unfair to Zefel. She has gotten into trouble before for looking older than her age and being attracted to boys. I hope that isn't happening here. That's the last thing she needs.

My second thought is very bad for me as a Jedi. I am jealous of him. I am sure she is telling him more than she does me.

_I must not assume things, and I must not be jealous. That's a lot worse than grieving for Oreti and Dorn._

"Akite!" Zefel calls out.

I return to her. She is wiping her eyes and sniffing. "This is Kep Osirai."

He stands and bows. He isn't quite as young as I thought, or maybe it's just his tired eyes.

"He – oh, you tell her." Zefel sniffs again.

"I was captured at the Battle of Geonosis, like your friend."

"I'm sorry," I say. My heart leaps, however. Zefel has finally found someone to talk to who might "understand." I notice that he is not wearing a lightsaber.

They try awkwardly to talk to me. Finally, I politely leave the two of them and return to my room to meditate.

I think Zefel is going to be all right with Kep Osirai.

* * *

"So," I begin when Zefel sits beside me at breakfast. I don't see her new friend anywhere, so I think I'm safe in asking her about him. I turn to her. "Kep Osirai."

"What about him?" she asks and fills her mouth with food.

"Well, anything. Who is he? Besides being a prisoner."

"He's a knight." Her food seems to be taking up an unusual amount of her attention.

"Does he have a padawan?" I press.

"He did."

"What happened?"

"They were sent to take a Geonosian city. Not the one we were in. They got separated and overwhelmed."

"Oh, so you can say _something_ worthwhile about him." I cross my arms. "What'd you talk about?"

"Prison. Whatever." She looks at me and says sharply, "Do I have to report everything I do to you?"

I am shocked speechless. I probably have heard that tone from her before, but never directed at me, Fang, Jiimo, or even Dorn. I am going to tell Master Yoda that this friendship thing is not working out.

"You know what's wrong?" Zefel asks, her tone still harsh. "You're upset that I'm talking to someone besides you and Fang. You're _jealous_. Well, I've been talking to plenty of Jedi."

"I have, too," I protest, though I've only really talked to the two who shared my ship on the way back from Geonosis and Master Yoda, and she touched on exactly what was wrong. "But I wish you would talk to _me_ a bit more. We used to talk all the time."

"Well, that was before all this." She looks away with a vague, distracted expression.

"Zefel." I was angry with her a second ago, but now I feel as much affection for my friend as ever. "I lost my master, too."

"You never show it.

"Would you prefer I cried all day?" I ask. "Come on, Zefel. I do cry. You've seen me. I feel lonely. I wish there were someone to help me. There isn't, so I wait. You should've seen what I was doing at first, before Fang came. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling pain in my leg that should have healed days before then, and looking for stupid shatterpoints… So, Zefel, I'm _not_ perfect. I just found out how to be happy. Playing with younglings. I love them."

"So what do I do?" Zefel asks.

"I don't know yet. Maybe you need to get out of the Temple."

"I need a master first." She takes another bite of food. Then, she shudders. "We're all going to die," she whispers.

"We all will someday. We're all mortal, even Master Yoda."

"Soon, though. There's nothing but blood and tears ahead."

"Do you have to be so depressing?" My temper is beginning to fray.

"Something terrible is going to happen to the Jedi," she whispers. "I don't know what, but whenever I look to the future, I feel it. Jedi will kill Jedi."

My skin is prickling, but I try not to show it. "In all our thousands of years, whenever there's war, Jedi kills Jedi. I believe that and that _something_ terrible is happening."

"But this will be worse than ever before."

"Zefel, I don't know what you're talking about. Are you really seeing bits of the future?" Usually, only masters can do that.

"I don't know." Her clear blue eyes seem clouded and frightened. "I think Yoda thinks I am."

Every hair on my body must be standing up. I can only hope that Zefel is exaggerating or misinterpreting what the Force shows her. It showed _me_ hope. "I don't know, Zefel," I admit. "But I do know that, no matter what is coming, we have to keep going."

She nods, but her eyes do not look any happier.


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry this is so short!**

* * *

Zefel is waiting for me when I leave the younglings

Zefel is waiting for me when I leave the younglings. She usually lets me come to her, so I know that this is important. She looks at me with wide, blue eyes, and I know what she will say before she starts. I have seen her with Kep Osirai many times over the past three days and I know that they spend the time when I am with younglings talking together.

"Kep thinks he should take a mission from the Council again, and he wants me to come with him," she tells me.

I grin. "I was wondering how long it would take for him to ask you. And if you refused, I'll dunk you in one of the pools in the Room of a Thousand Fountains."

"I did not refuse!" she says angrily, as if she hadn't the last time she was asked.

"Good. Great! That's wonderful!"

"He's going to get permission from Master Yoda right now. I thought I should tell you before the ceremony to make it official." She isn't smiling.

"Aren't you happy?" I ask.

"Yes, I am, but it'll be strange to have a male master." She snaps, "Akite!" I have let my worries about her feelings for him show on my face. "He's thirty-something. You're disgusting."

"Hey! It's a valid worry!" I slump a little and admit, "I wish someone cared about _me_."

"I know," she whispers. "It's not fair. I wish you were coming, too. Oh, Akite, what'll I do without you?" she cries. "What would I do if something happened to you? Or Fang? I'd die!"

She starts to cry. I want to tell her that this is exactly why the Masters have forbidden "attachment," but she has already suggested that she doesn't want to be a Jedi, and I don't want to risk that again.

We are in a hallway, where anyone can see us – and would, if there were more Jedi at home. She doesn't seem to mind. She just stands and cries.

Well, if she's shaming herself, I might as well join her. I put my arm around her shoulders, then give in and hug her completely. "It'll be all right in the end," I whisper to her. "Really. You'll be okay, and this whole messed-up galaxy will stop fighting and straighten itself out someday." I see a vaguely familiar adult Zabrak start down the hallway, notice us, and turn away hurriedly. Oh, well. I can be weak occasionally. "Maybe not in our lifetime, but it has to happen sometime. It always does." She won't stop crying. "And I'll always be your friend." I let go of her. "Okay, Zefel. You're going to become Kep Osirai's apprentice, and you can't let the Council see you like this."

I take her back to my room to have her wash her face and smooth her short hair. I'm not sure it's long enough to have a normal padawan braid, but I don't say so.

"Okay, Zefel Torela. Go find your master, and enjoy getting to do the padawan-master ceremony a second time. Don't let the Council see you cry, no matter what. Good luck. I hope you and Master Osirai get along well."

She tries to smile. "Thanks, Akite."

She turns and walks out my door. I really hope she does well. I'm going to miss her.


	9. Chapter 9

I am alone again.

Zefel left this morning. I will miss her so much. I tried to show a brave face when she left, but it's horrible to be alone. The caretakers of the younglings realized that I was preoccupied and asked if I would like to leave early, but I didn't. I can never thank Master Yoda enough for offering me this job for afternoons. Without the younglings, I would go crazy.

When I leave them, I almost go to the Room of a Thousand Fountains to talk to Zefel. But she won't be there. In the weeks that my friends have been home, I have forgotten what it is like to be alone.

I can't go back to my room. I'll end up staring at the blank ceiling above my bed. I miss Oreti so much, but I am a Jedi, so I have to get over that.

I eat dinner early. I walk through the Room of a Thousand Fountains. You can get beautifully lost in here.

My lightsaber is calling to me. I find a teacher, tell her I want to practice, and choose an empty room. I leave the door open out of habit. If there were many people practicing, this would matter because closing the door means that no one else can use the room, and I don't plan to take up so much space.

I start doing velocities. These are drills in which I keep doing the same set of moves in faster and faster patterns until (hopefully) a watcher won't be able to see what I am doing. They aren't useful in a real fight, but they are good for getting to know a certain move or your lightsaber. Shii-Cho has more velocities than the other six forms because it is the oldest and is taught to younglings who aren't used to their lightsabers. I am used to mine, and I love the feel of it in my hands. I do know Shii-Cho better than any other form, so I do its velocities for as long as I can. I enjoy the fact that I have to focus on not burning myself but absolutely nothing else.

When I am finally exhausted, I slow down again and finally stop. My world expands from the tiny area that my lightsaber covers. A light-skinned Zabrak is watching from the hallway. She hurries away when I notice her. I have seen her before, but I am too tired to think of where.

I return to my room, wash up, and get ready to sleep.

* * *

It has been eight weeks since the battle. I am still masterless. Yet when I ask the Force, it shows me the feeling of hope yet again. There is someone waiting for a padawan and will choose me. Someone. Somewhere.

I have been forced to wait before. I was the last of my friends to be chosen by a master. This should be no different, except that, now, I know what the galaxy is like and we are in a civil war. Maybe I should be happy that I am safe in the Temple.

I still miss my master.

* * *

I glare at the sink in my 'fresher. It has started to stick. I avoided telling anyone about this before because I felt that it was the only thing besides me that could break. That was stupid. I live in the Jedi Temple, where everything works smoothly. I don't see why this should be any different. If I hurry, I can tell a maintenance droid what is wrong and still have enough time for breakfast before classes.

* * *

I think I understand now. I think I understand.

Zefel was not made for survival in the darkness. Friendship would not be enough for her. She isn't strong enough on her own.

Oh, Zefel. There is nothing I can do for you but try to ease the pain, but at least I can do that.

* * *

My schoolwork has taken longer than usual for me to finish, so I hurry to the younglings.

This has happened before, but this time is different. As I turn a corner, I meet someone all-out running in the other direction. I am going slowly enough that I can stop, but the other Jedi jumps sideways to avoid me and has to go past me before stopping.

We turn to face each other. She is a gold-skinned Zabrak who I _know_ I have seen before.

"Akite Chairu," she gasps without even apologizing for running in the hallways. "Will you be my padawan?"

I'm not sure what she actually said. I just stare at her, trying to figure it out.

She waits a few seconds before prompting, "Well, will you?"

"Uh, yes…?"

"Great. I'll have to talk to you later." She turns and continues down the hallway at a very fast walk.

I have no idea what I just agreed to. Jedi don't almost bump into a padawan in the hallway and ask her to be her apprentice. Well, they _don't_. It was just my longing clouding my brain, as the masters would doubtless warn me would happen. Because Jedi don't just…

But that was Moyek Yasi…

I recognize the Zabrak. I have seen her several times. I caught her watching me at velocities last evening, and she caught me hugging a sobbing Zefel the afternoon before that. And, even earlier, I have seen her a few time and been told who she is.

She is Moyek Yasi, a Jedi master known for excellence at lightsaber combat and being a little crazy.

I stare down the empty hallway. _Someone just asked me to be her padawan. Moyek Yasi just asked me to be her padawan!_

I start to grin. _Yes! It's about time!_

I feel like dancing in the hallway, but that would be frowned upon, I'm not entirely sure if I was hearing right, and about twenty seven-year-olds are waiting for me to play with them.


	10. Chapter 10

I walk slowly, tentatively back to my room once the younglings let me leave

I walk slowly, tentatively back to my room once the younglings let me leave. I'm not sure what is happening now. Whether she is serious. When she'll come to me again. What to expect.

I turn a corner, and, again, this is when I see her. This time, instead of running, she is standing next to my door with her arms crossed. I approach her at a walk.

"Hi, Akite. So you play with the younglings every afternoon?"

"Yeah."

"Do they like you?"

"They seem to really appreciate it."

"I bet the caretakers do." She laughs.

I get to have a good look at her at last. Her skin is a slightly paler gold than Fang's. She is a different race of Zabrak than I am. Her horns are smaller than and not as low on her forehead as mine are, and she doesn't have hair. She has black eyes, and there are lines tattooed on her cheeks that indicate that she has gone through the Iridonian rite of passage for the clan she was born into. My parents were from a colonial world, rather than the Zabrak homeworld of Iridona, so I will never bear tattoos. Besides, the rite of passage would require being away from the Temple for a month or more, and I don't want that.

"I guess you don't want to play with younglings your whole life," she adds, bringing me back to my situation.

"No, but maybe when – if – I retire," I tell her.

"Yes, 'if,'" she sighs. "It's all 'if' now. But we keep going, right?"

Exactly what I told Zefel.

"I think it's good for you to do that, though. Good practice for dealing with crazy people," she continues.

I never thought of it that way. She is grinning, so I think she was at least half joking. "It keeps me busy," I add.

"That, too. But if you're going to be my padawan, you won't have to worry about that."

I smile. "That's true. Would you like to come to my room and sit?"

"All right." There actually isn't a chair, so we sit on my sleeping couch. "I guess you've figured out who I am," she says.

"You're Master Yasi."

"Right. I'm sorry I was running earlier." She winces. "The Council had called me, but I finished what I was doing before I went, and they don't like to be kept waiting. But I won't excuse running in the hallways. The teachers would murder me if I did. At least, they would _try_." Her mouth turned up in a predatory grin.

"I won't tell anyone," I promise, smiling. They _would_ have trouble killing someone who is such a good fighter. "What did the Council want you for?"

"Oh, they wanted to know what I was planning to do next. Last week, they would have ordered me somewhere, but now, we're getting an idea of what's going on between us and the Separatists, so we're focusing where it is needed and pulling everyone else back home. It's a big relief."

I hope that this means I will see my friends again soon.

"I told them I wanted to stay here for a little while and that Akite Chairu just agreed to be my padawan. So I'll stay as long as I am useful here."

I nod. "So – how did you decide you wanted me?" I ask uncomfortably. Oreti was looking for a padawan, had liked what he heard about me, and watched me at a few lightsaber practices before asking, but I was an innocent initiate and he was a young knight. Now, I have known great pain, and Master Yasi is more than a knight wanting her first padawan.

"I came back the afternoon before last and accidentally saw you and your friend in the hallway, when she was crying, you remember? I asked Yoda, and he told me who you were and encouraged me. You're perfect for me. A Zabrak and pretty good with your lightsaber. Mine was green as a padawan, too."

"Thanks, Master Yasi," I mumble uncomfortably.

"Call me Moyek," she says. "I think the Council may be willing to do the ceremony tonight, if you want."

"That would be wonderful," I whisper.

"And I guess you wouldn't know," she adds with a bitter smile, "that I lost my first master when I was fifteen."


	11. Chapter 11

**I haven't talked to you much on this story. I haven't had much to say. But this is the last chapter, so I should show that there **_**is**_** a living human being behind the story.**

**I couldn't figure out what the padawan ceremony is like, so I just made it up myself. I have a feeling that the clone wars movie might tell us, but I won't change this even if my idea is completely different than Lucas's, which it probably is. It's his own fault for not telling us.**

* * *

I feel like I'm walking in a dream. Last night, I was going to sleep with the knowledge that Zefel had a master and I didn't. Now I am undoing my padawan braid and having it trimmed to the length of the rest of my hair. I'll re-braid it after I become Moyek's padawan. For now, I am a simple initiate again. It's like traveling back in time, but I won't forget what has happened since I did this last.

I look in my mirror. My black hair is down, and some of it threatens to hide my eyes. I comb my fingers through it and collect it in the back. That looks better. I tie it there.

Moyek is watching me with great amusement. She, of course, never got to fuss over hair like this. She never had a padawan braid. I miss mine. It will be strange to not have it even for even a half hour.

"Well?" she asks. "How are you doing?"

"It seems like I'm betraying my old master to be someone else's padawan."

"I felt the same way," she admits. "But my second master told me something that is very true, and I will tell you. Wouldn't the worst betrayal to your first master be if you refused to continue the teaching that he worked, and, in my case, died, to give you?"

"Yes, it would," I agree.

"It's just as bad to not be sad when they die."

It is as if she has heard my thoughts. I drop my hands and watch my reflection as she continues.

"I know you probably believe what the masters tell you, to believe in the moment and not form attachments, but it's not all true. You can't forget your friends and teachers after they die. That would be unfair to them. I know you were thinking about that. I've been the same place before."

"I was, but I think you're right." I turn away from the mirror. "I'm ready.

"Good."

* * *

We kneel, facing each other, in the middle of a circle of the twelve Council members. I have been here before with Oreti. The words for the ceremony are not fixed, but I remember the Council members prompting both of us so that we would cover everything necessary. This will be different, I think.

"Akite Chairu, Jedi padawan," Master Yoda begins. Here is the first difference: last time, I was addressed as an initiate. "Ready for a master your teachers declared you nearly two years ago. Took you as his padawan a young knight did. With this knight, Oreti Alo, you worked for many months, and much from him you learned. Two months ago taken from you your master was. Today, before us you kneel, and to continue your training you ask. Prepared for a master are you?"

This is one of the longest speeches I can remember having heard from him – other than the last ceremony, when he spoke of my childhood. I raise my head and reply, "I am prepared to continue my training under a new master, and I am honored to have been chosen." I continue with the required promises: "I will do my best to learn whatever you have to teach me, Master Yasi. I will follow you and obey when I can." They don't insist that we always obey. That would only get us into trouble. I add, daringly, "I will follow you until I may pass my trials and become a knight or die. Should you leave me, I will continue under a third master."

There is a murmur of surprise and, hopefully, approval. "Your dedication the Council appreciates," Master Yoda assures me.

Moyek smiles at me.

Master Windu addresses Moyek. I think that knights and masters are his domain. "Moyek Yasi, Jedi Master. Many years ago, your master was killed while protecting you, and we feared that you would never become a knight. Instead, we saw you apprenticed to a new master, then passing your trials, taking your own padawan, and finally becoming a master yourself. Then, your third padawan was killed on a mission, and we once again feared for you. Once again, you recovered, and now, though it has been three years since your padawan died, you are willing to take on a new one, one who has suffered her own losses. Are you prepared to take Akite Chairu as your padawan and guide her to knighthood?"

"Akite." She addresses me, rather than the questioner. "I am prepared to lead you on your road to knighthood. I will teach you all I can, protect you from death or injury when possible, and lead you away from the temptations of darkness. I hope that we will be able to stay together until you pass your trials."

This last comment is not part of the ceremony's requirements, but it is perfect for two Jedi who have suffered the loss of a master.

"This pairing the Council approves of," Master Yoda declares. "May strength you both find in these dark times."

_That_ was not a part of the ceremony last time.

Without waiting for prompting, as Oreti did, Moyek takes my hands and looks into my eyes. I locate her presence in the Force – fierce, strong, even rebellious. I feel an enormous sense of betrayal to Oreti, but I think of what Moyek told me about that, and I take hold of her Force-presence. All masters and padawans bond this way.

"Master and padawan," says Master Yoda. "Rise you may."

We stand. The circle of masters parts in one spot, and I follow Moyek out of the room.

It isn't betrayal to Oreti at all. My master has returned.

The Force is warm inside me. We live in a dark world, but the light always remains if you wish to find it.

* * *

**Well, this story is finished. But Akite's isn't. I'll be posting the first chapter of her next story next week. It moves away from Geonosis (at last!) and into the Clone Wars – well, a very atypical battlefield with its own war in the midst of the galaxy-wide one. I really hope some of you want to read it!**


End file.
